Your life, dreams, abilities and aspirations - reduced to pamphlet form.

I hate napping after 8 (PM)... It totally screws me up and leaves me wide awake long into the night. But yesterday, after a day spent stressing out over not finishing a job that should have been done days ago, handling day to day ‘stuff’, and getting the kids in bed - it happened (again) last night. I awoke on the couch with a jolt at a quarter to 10 pm and immediately knew I was screwed. For me, it’s the rough equivalent of downing a pot of coffee and an energy drink just when your night is supposed to be winding down.

To add a little insult to injury, I caught a pretty distinct waft of ’Old Man Ass Smell’ in the air as I peeled myself up off of the couch. For those of you who are not immediately familiar with the term/odor: Did you ever open your Grandpa’s (or Dad’s) car door on a hot summer afternoon in the glory days of vinyl seats and have all of those years of butt sweat, after shave and ‘seat bombs’ knock you back a good six feet??? Well - that is Old Man Ass Smell… And, in a pretty disturbing revelation, apparently I’ve come of age to put out some of my own OMAS into the world.

So, anyways… I’m lying wide awake in bed contemplating everything from crazy camaro mouse designs (you’ll see what I mean soon enough) to the proposal I’d submitted to the Edmonton’s ‘Public Art Committee’ last Friday. The mouse seems to be working itself out well enough but I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around my application…

Over the period of about 3 frustrating days I came up with and, last Friday, submitted an artist statement, artist biography, curriculum vitae (a.k.a. quasi-resume) and image files and descriptions to a committee. The hope being that they’ll see fit to include me on the pre-approved shortlist of public art projects that might arise around the city for the next few years. Oddly enough, it’s not my abilities to create ’art’ that I am questioning - but rather ability to put together a presentation. For the life of me, it’s hard for me to figure out what one has to do with the other. And it’s odd that I am not competing for a spot on the list on the basis of creativity or ability - but based upon politics and ‘pamphlet’.

So… I’ve since scrubbed thoroughly to combat the early onset of OMAS, got myself back to work on psychotic rodent paintings, and am waiting to hear back from the pompous Edmonton Arts Council. Guess we’ll just have to see how it goes… But I am hoping to sleep a little better tonight.

Hope you’ve had a good week - and thanks for reading!

Rod

Why Cherie's company car now smells like Fabreze and... well...

Well it’s Christmas season here… And Christmas party season. Unlike every other year, however, we were actually able to attend them this year after FINALLY securing a babysitter willing to tolerate our demonic spawn. A lot has changed apparently, though, since the good ol’ days of two buck an hour childcare… Nowadays when we run screaming away from the house like summer crazed kids on the last day of school - it comes at a cost of $10 an hour.

I’ll definitely admit to being a little reluctant to attend not one, but two Christmas parties held by a company of Engineers inside of a week… But I dutifully located the 4 pieces of clothing I own that 1) weren’t paint stained and 2) would pass for semi formal - and we headed for the affairs. I still tend to stand out like a paint stained sore thumb in a sea of plaid wearing, shop talking eggheads where the conversations always run the risk of being as dry as the red wine on the table. Ultimately, I was able to tolerate the forced interest and thinly veiled condescension that comes with introducing yourself as an ‘artist’ to people from the technical ilk and eventually located a few people that shared my passion for either creative ventures, sports, motorcycle related activities and/or even heavy drinking.

By the end of the second party (last night) I’ll admit to having achieving a certain level of comfort in my surroundings - and even found myself belly-up-to-the-bar alongside my wife’s 'big' boss doing shots… So I suppose I was beginning to think I had survived and even somewhat enjoyed my time being my wife’s ‘+1’ at her Christmas parties.

As the crowd started to thin and the night drew to a close, we were closing in on another $60 babysitting bill and figured it was time to head for home. I was thoroughly enjoying my conversation with a recently immigrated engineer from Ireland - who just happened to share all of my above mentioned passions. But it was time to step away from the table, finish my drink and head for home (btw - don’t worry - Cherie had agreed to drive)… So I did the obligatory final big gulp of my beer and immediately knew I was in trouble.

Do you know that swallow you make when you take in far more air than anything else - and it feels like a tennis ball slowly making it’s way down your esophagus?!?!? If so, then; yup… It was one of those.  I was able to do put on a brave face and make it through the last of my ‘thank you's and good-byes’ before heading out to the company car that Cherie had reserved for her client meetings today. All the while, I knew there was a balloon of stupidity inflating with a yeasty ferocity inside of my stomach that, at some point, was going to require the pressure release of a pretty monumental belch. And, about halfway home, it came. It was immediate relief in one quick gastric gesture - but, no, it was not, umm, unaccompanied. And, yes, though it was nowhere near an exorcist tribute moment, it was enough that complete containment was not possible.

So… I’m not sure if I can say I’ve actually survived Christmas party season or not… The food was first class, the drinks flowed freely, and, for the most part, the conversations were even enjoyable. But… yeah… I kinda puked a little in Cherie’s company car. So… I suppose we’ll have to try again next year!

Hope you’ve had a good week!

Rod

We got out!!!!

My sister was kind enough to sacrifice her Saturday night (and sanity) to watch our kids and allow for Cherie and I to actually get out of the house together. This typically only happens once, maybe twice a year and was an incredible evening.  The only complaint I may have is that it went by too fast.

It started out with dinner (*IN A ‘No Minors’ LOUNGE! WooHoo!) at a pretty nice restaurant followed by a few games of pool at a sports bar/brew house. Then it was off to a clubhouse turned musical recording/rehearsal studio to hang out with a bunch of people while watching a local band prepare their sets for a show they had the following night.

I was actually able to have a few conversations that didn’t end with something along the lines of: “and that is why you don’t push the pedestrian walk button with your tongue!” (an unfortunate but true story/occurrence) or: “…so, yes, you have to get off the dogs head now!” or even: “for the love of god - next time just ask if there is more toilet paper!” (instead of… ugh… improvising.)

For Cherie and I, it was an overdue reminder of how much we actually enjoy each others company. I really am lucky to have married my best friend and am so happy that, when you strip away all the clutter and chaos, it is still her that makes my world go around.

But on a bit more of a personal note; while to most of the people at the rehearsal it was just another Saturday night spent hanging out with friends at the studio, it was quite a bit more to me. Here are these guys in their early twenties that are gearing up to take on the world and the positive energy was so thick you could almost bottle it… There was zero talk of ’recession’ or complaints about politics. There were no expectations only ambitions. For the first time in what I was reminded was far too long - I was in an environment free of blame and baggage… And, let me tell you, it was contagious!

I was more invigorated by this environment and these musicians than I have been in quite some time. Not only did it relight a fire inside - but also reminded me how much a positive atmosphere is not only necessary but can also be extremely beneficial. Now I’ve just got to figure out how to make it more of a regular occurrence… I’m not exactly sure how or where - but it is definitely going to be more of a priority in my future.

I hope you’ve had a good week! And Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Rod

P.S.

I’ve finally got my coffee table repaired, finished and assembled! I had planned on displaying (and hopefully selling!) it at a local bike shop but Cherie is pushing me to go more of a gallery route. Either way, I’m just quite happy to finally have it done.

Getting older and… ummm….

My birthday on Sunday was nice… I was a little bummed out with Cherie being out of town but my parents and sister came over and it made for a really nice evening. My mom even made me dinner and baked me a cake! I may not know much of anything (and will get into that later) but I do know one thing for certain: there is nothing as precious on this planet as a loving and supportive mother.

As a Dad I try to help pour and mould the concrete that will hopefully become the bedrock of my children’s future decisions. I try to show them that integrity, honesty, and dedication will help guide them through life. That there are things in life that can be black and white, right or wrong - regardless of how much more appealing and easy a life lived in the grey areas may appear.

But comfort and compassion, acceptance and support, and, well, the pat on the head above all others undoubtedly comes from a Mom.

So with another year under my still-growing belt… It is odd that I often find myself more confused and confounded than ever. We live in a world that celebrates and rewards greed, frowns on tolerance and denounces compassion. Society seems to be on a path counter to it’s best interest and the continued downward spiral seems inevitable. Ignorance and intolerance is not only rampant - but also being taken advantage of by immoral leaders looking to herd people in whatever direction best serves their interests.

With this in mind, I think we’d all do a little better if we source a little more of what typically comes from the maternal influences. I think we would be much better off listening to a ‘Silver Cross Mother’ (or Blue Star Mother) about foreign policy than a politician who’s neck deep in oil-based campaign financing. Maybe treating sick people instead of judging them (and just sitting back to watch them die if they don‘t measure up to some non-existent standard). Maybe simply helping to build people up instead of constantly finding ways to tear them down. Compassion as an alternative to comparison and condescension.

It might not be much in the way of wisdom… but, after another year on the planet, it’s the best I’ve come up with so far. Oh well… maybe I am just getting older and wider.

Thanks for reading!!!

Rod

P.S.

As I typed this my Mom sent me a joke email about going to Jamaica and smoking dope… hehehe

The difference a few years can make...

I’m not pulling out the rocking chair yet - and am still doing my best to gather ye my share of rose buds. There has, however, been a rather significant shift in my hopes, dreams and even fears over the last few years.

I haven’t completely abandoned the romance of a life of artistic contribution or impact on the bigger artistic picture. I may not be in a relentless struggle for fame or vast fortune - stability is the main quest lately, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I have lost my ambition. It’s just that my equation has become a little more complex with the addition of a wife and kids into it.

Gone are the three day and night long ‘artistic benders’… (Not that I ever went on them too often - you tend to get kinda stinky by the end of those.)

And my most substantial fears have gone from the typical ‘getting old’ and ‘inconsequence’ - to the more simple things like catching my son with my toothbrush in his hand. And while there is considerable relief in finding it still in his hand and not seeing the dog running away in a panic with the handle protruding from it’s ass… you still do have to wonder where it had been before you found him with it - and, trust me, that is scary enough. And you don’t want to get into the mind game of wondering how many times he may have had it that you didn’t know of. There’s just no way of winning that.

There are days now a big project or new technique doesn’t even remotely bring the satisfaction that knowing that, at least at the moment you dropped them off for school, every part of the kids and their belongings was 'booger free'. Although that victory dance is usually a short one when you find something hideous had been wiped on your sleeve…

The trade off being that I get to volunteer to help out with ‘Clay For Kids’ day at school. And my son, beaming with pride, proclaiming (at full volume): “My Dad knows all about this stuff - He is a artist.” It almost makes the days of cleaning up body fluids, the projects that had to wait until midnight to get started, the runny noses, fighting over the $%^ * Wii and CONSTANT talking worthwhile…

So Yes… There are many days that I’m not sure what the hell I am doing - even more days I am not sure what the hell I am and where exactly I fit in to the big picture. But at least my kids seem to know and can remind me: “I know all about this stuff - I am a artist.” 

Thanks for reading - sincerely,

Rod


P.S.
I just have to make a quick product ‘plug’ here… This week, along with several others, I pulled out my “Pocket Graf-X” stencils designed by Scott MacKay. I firmly believe that, next to my airbrush itself, they are among the best, most used, most valuable tools I own. I use them all the time and, without fail, find myself saying “These things are awesome!” when they speed up a process and/or add a cool effect. So… Scott - Thank you!! My customer was quite pleased with my project this week and it was largely due to the effects I added using your stencil set.  (I don't have pictures of that project yet but will be going back there soon to take some - and then this 'plug' will make a lot more sense.)

One of my 'pick gaurd projects' before clear:

Getting by with a little help from my friends…

The past few weeks have been difficult (the working title for this blog entry was 'Being an artist can really fucking suck.')  Though there are enough jobs to keep myself busy with - the pay scale on the majority of them is in the basement end of three figures and has often required any semblance of dignity be stowed. I’ve been making jokes (mostly to keep from crying) about how I’ve gone from painting guitars for CMT to painting pick guards for some dude from Pleasantview (he's a great guy - but just saying...). Then that begins a cycle of feeling like an ungrateful prick who should just be happy people are willing to pay me to paint at all.

I still realize that when I decided that my life would be dedicated to being a ‘creative’ (or as recently referred to by a friend: “All artsy and shit.”) even early on I knew it was not going to be an easy, or stable, road. I saw that fortune was rare and fame could often depend as much upon which way the wind was blowing as often as it did upon actual talent. You could pour all of your time, heart and talent into a project only to have it passed over for the latest ‘Hello Kitty-esque’ gimic or ‘not-so-creatively borrowed rendition’… Again and again. And again.

In the past, Cherie has always swept in and comforted (or kicked my ass in gear) when I’ve been floundering inside my head. But her career has taken off over the past few years and she has really become a force to be reckoned within her field. She is finally surrounded by people who recognized and foster her amazing potential - and it has allowed her to soar. So, after she has put in a long day of decision making and high budget coordination, it seems incredibly petty for me to approach her complaining about how people aren’t buying my paintings of dead things…

So this week, it was quite nice that a few timely conversations with friends have served to fill that role of getting my head back in the game. I’m not claiming any significant divine intervention and neither friend blew much of measurable quantity of sunshine up my ass - but rather just served to reset my mindset back into a productive and/or ambitious direction. And I feel incredibly fortunate to have people genuinely care and enjoy my company enough to help me knock the funk back a little and let some good vibes in. Now it didn’t hurt at all that one of these friends bought a painting… But even that gesture was as much a way of saying “What you do has value. I appreciate and want to support that. ” as it was a help to boost the ego (and wallet) a little.

So with that in mind, I say: “Cheers” to those who helped me out in my recent time of mental bambi-on-ice-edness… As well as an ongoing ‘Thank you’ to those who have supported me in the past.

I gotta go paint some dead stuff now on a pick guard now… and will be doing it with a smile.

Thanks for reading. Sincerely,

Rod

The Circle of Life... With pucks.

I took my kids to their first WHL hockey game on Friday. My daughter got put up on the big screen and my son entertained the whole section with his dancing and headbanging when the music played. It was a full circle type occasion that filled me with memories of going to my first game with my Dad. All in all, it was a really nice night.

The days of fists flying every few minutes are on their way out now, the pucks don’t sail out into the stands anymore, and the speed has increased considerably. But the excitement of youth is still palpable - and contagious. I found myself wanting to play! Yes… Underneath a layer of nacho chip crumbs, spilled beer and a mustard stained spare tire of a belly was a kid wanting to be part of the game again.

It really was a bit of a ‘Glory Days’ moment for me. Fondly remembering 28 inch jeans, best friends on your line backing you up, breakaways, and even a cheering girlfriend in the stands…

I may take up the sport again on a more ‘beer league’ level… Though the years have transformed me from ‘power forward’ to something more along the lines of ‘bowling pin.’ But the love of the game is still there and I‘ve never been much good at just watching a sport… I‘ve always preferred playing.

Life goes on… and I have a feeling my old NHL pipe dreams will eventually be passed along to my son. He’s already taken an interest and shown an aptitude. I’ll do my best not to be the old guy living vicariously - but rather support him towards making both the friends and fond memories that will last him a lifetime.


-

Work continues to feel like it’s moving slowly… I am finally getting designs to people and closing in on when they will actually materialize into paintings. But it’s still a little like walking through mud at times. I’ve got a little more time in on my E-Tac panel for SEMA and will hopefully have that done and shipped in time. It has been fun but also challenging not to bring urethanes into the mix.

There are days that depression rears it’s unproductive head and I cater to it a lot more than I should. I have another show on the horizon to prepare for now, though, and that is usually all it takes to get motivated. I just need to dust the ego off and forget about the humbling summer season I had, pick up my chin and start moving forward again.

As always - thanks for reading! I hope you’ve had a good week.

Rod

Abstract douchery.

I got spammed by an artist this week and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Upon reflection, I was actually quite surprised with my knee-jerk reaction of immediately shutting the page down. After all, I know all too well how difficult just simply getting your work seen by people can actually be. Maybe I should have given her more benefit of the doubt and/or consideration... 

But, in addition to the belligerently invasive marketing technique, I think the root of my reaction was that she was an abstract artist… And I, like many, treat many who pursue this sort of expression with a fair measure of contempt. Visions of a green line representing a prairie horizon or a 3 million dollar blank canvas representing god-knows-what immediately come to mind and the teeth just start to clench.

I’ve long tried to be a defender of abstract art. At it’s best, it can be a genuine and visceral peek at the world from someone else’s perspective. Much like how a well written article can describe a situation, offer insight, and evoke emotion - an artists movement, choice of color and presentation can do much the same. It is just unfortunately rare for this to be the case.

The way I see it, though, there are two major problems: 1) The artist often has nothing of any real value to ‘say.’ And 2) People are willing act like he (or she) does. At some point all that has been created is an illusion of knowledge and then people, not wanting to appear ignorant, pretend to ‘know’ as well. So the cycle begins and it becomes a culture of people pretending to ‘know’ something. An imaginary, often exorbitant, value is assigned and an opportunity to be condescending to people who just aren’t willing to buy into the BS presents itself.

The unfortunate casualties of the anti-abstract sentiment, however, are the people who really do have a perspective worthy of consideration. They are often lost in a vast sea of copycat paint splatterers, palette knife smushers, and just plain douchey self anointed ‘artsy’ people. So much so, that people will unfortunately and likely walk right by a true visionary in order to get a look at the latest Godard print.

There really are abstract artists out there that can actually paint ‘better than your kid.’ You just gotta look past the facade (and now/apparently the pop-up ads too) to find them. Failing that, you can always wait and see what sort of wacky predicament the olive will find himself in next time he runs across a giant martini glass.

--

I’m still struggling with motivation on the work front. I’ve got some cool projects in the works, though, that I look forward to getting past the design stage. A very high-profile military commission in particular has got me extremely excited - it’s been a hard one to nail down though. As much as I have grown to love my sketchbook and design work over the years - it’s been a little while and I’m itching to get some actual paint under my nails again. I’m working on an E-Tac coffin lid display (possibly for SEMA) in between doing design work and that has been quite enjoyable. More custom/bike customer work on the horizon should get my ass in gear pretty quick here as well. All in all, no major complaints.

Thanks for reading! Sincerely,

Rod

Putting a ding in the universe.

Steve Jobs has dominated the news today and it’s hard not to wonder what sort of personal impact he has had. I’m sure there will be several news stories, biographies and probably even a movie of some sort made of his life so I’m not going to attempt any sort of summary here. In fact, we live in an ‘I’free house (not deliberately.) Though I was a little surprised when, a few years ago, my daughter informed me the little plastic toy she was holding up to her ear while dancing to imaginary music was, in her mind, actually an Ipod. I wasn’t aware she had ever even heard of them before but the cocked hip and snottiness of her response made it pretty clear that I was already losing touch with the next generation. It was the first of what I’m sure will eventually be many; “Ummmm…. Duh, Dad!” moments.

Where this man directly and profoundly impacted us as artists/in my opinion, however, was his involvement in Pixar and the eventual restructuring of the animation industry monolith that was Disney. Computer generated art was already finding it’s spot in the world (you could argue he greatly assisted with this as well), yes, but there was no real direct or ultimate destination for it. His fostering, funding and defense of Pixar allowed it to be at the root of what has since branched out into the most profitable and popular varieties of arts and entertainment available to the public today.

There will always be a place for oil paints, canvases, pencils etc. But it’s no small coincidence that the stylus now features prominently, if not dominantly, among them. We might have grown up drawing Conan and Eddie on our binders with our Bic pens… but our kids are going to be drawing -and animating- direct descendants of Nemo and Wall-E on their tablet PCs.

On one final, somewhat political tangent, though... What seems to be most bittersweet about his passing, for me, is that he actually made something. In a day of people acquiring insane amounts of wealth through fraudulent investing, predatory corruption, and blatant money laundering schemes - he actually, literally, and simply produced product(s) that people wanted. And I am convinced that, even with the immense profits he and his company enjoyed, he ultimately did so in an effort to actually give something to the world - not simply see what he could take from it. I think that is what I admire most.

Thank you for reading.

Rod

A boy (and later a girl) named Fuchs.

Bullying seems to be on the news with increasing frequency over the last few years and looks like it is finally being taken seriously. But I don’t know how seriously to take it. I, like many, went through my share of awkward years on the playground. I took a fair share of harassment from older kids and, with some embarrassment, will admit to dealing out a considerable amount of my own. Still… I did well at sports and always had plenty of friends - but that didn’t always save me from the wide reaching targets of some of the older/bigger kids.

Whether it was my last name, my uncool bicycle, or the disproportionate size of my teeth - there was always something to be nitpicked if/when someone went looking. And I know how all the Disney movies and after school specials talk about how standing up to a bully will take away his/her power but, in my experience, there was rarely much more than a minor threat of physical danger. It was typically the words used that did most of the damage. The words didn’t stop hitting you even when everyone had gone their separate ways.

So now I’m left to wonder how to instruct Riley to behave now that she’s come home complaining that some of the older kids have made fun of her for supposedly having a boys name. I tried to tell her that if the kids on the playground are picking her first name to make fun of instead of the much more obvious and easy target of a last name like ‘Fuchs’ - then they aren’t necessarily the brightest bulbs in the fixture anyways. She didn’t understand what I meant (yet) and I didn’t feel like explaining it to her… She will find out soon enough.

I realize a little schoolyard razzing is nowhere near the same plane as the little boy on the news here who just recently committed suicide rather than facing his attackers/enduring more abuse… But it has been on my mind since she brought it up. I will do my best to keep instructing Riley in as many ways to resolve her conflicts as possible - in addition to showing her the appropriate applications of the ‘Louisville Slugger’ technique. And hopefully we can help her a little to navigate the treacherous waters of grade school bullying…

-

The work front has been a little slower this week. I am trying to polish up designs for the catalogue I have been wanting to put together for over a year now. I’m also reworking and retouching some of the damages the summer shows inflicted on my paintings and such. I have a few people interested in showing my paintings now - but am also strongly considering another ‘inventory clearance sale’ like I have done a few times in the past. I really like the batch of paintings I have on hand but am also craving the feeling of a fresh start that selling them off would provide. Besides that… I wanna buy Cherie some plane tickets so she can be on a beach at some point this winter. It is as much a self-preservation technique as anything. Another long uninterrupted winter here and she might kill me!


Thanks for reading. Hope you’ve had a good week!

Rod

Humble beginnings...

13 years ago today would have been packing up and getting ready to head to our first bike rally in Fletcher, North Carolina. We had seen the last of our friends and family off after our wedding the prior Sunday and were ready to give the custom paint world our best shot.

I had one airbrush, a half pint of red, yellow, blue, black and white basecoats, some One Shot enamels, and a brand new canopy tent. We borrowed a van from Cherie’s Grandpa and set off.

The rally was huge and we were pretty well swamped from the get-go. And, being a primarily Goldwing rally, we were painting larger scale bike murals around the clock. Cherie would handle all the business and PR and I would sit and paint.

At about 4 in the morning on the Saturday night, I went to clear the fenders of a Goldwing trike I had just finished painting a Native American theme on. It was so humid and foggy that you couldn’t see all the way across the parking lot and I laid the clear coat down as if my touch-up gun was a garden hose. It ran and sagged and dripped and was just a horrible, horrible mess. We had to completely wipe it off; removing my murals in the process.

I started over and repainted the entire back end in about a third of the time - and it showed. When the customers showed up at 9 the next morning, they were not pleased with my efforts. Looking back, I really don’t blame them at all. After all, I had only been airbrushing for about 2 months and this was a full mural covering the entire back end of the trike that had been completed in about 3 hours… They did not want to pay the $150 we were charging (no - that’s not a typo… we charged $150 for a full mural job on a Goldwing.)

Cherie butted heads over it for a while but eventually sent them packing and I honestly don’t remember if they ended up paying or not. But what I do remember more than anything is how, in a moment of total exhaustion, frustration, and embarrassment; Cherie stood by and supported me. She comforted my bruised ego and gave me the required kick in the ass to get back to work on the other projects I had lined up and waiting. (I’ve included pictures below of one of the other trikes I painted at this rally.)

In fact, it was how she handled that incident and her conduct in general that lead to a spill over of customers from that rally to our next one a few weeks later. We were able to book people in advance and travel knowing that there was going to be work for us when we arrived.

We went on to travel and work bike rallies for the next three years covering the entire south-east of the United States. I couldn’t have done it without her - nor would I have wanted to. It was an ongoing adventure that I still look back fondly on.

Although I do have several other memories from our wedding week - this remains prominently among them. It has been 13 years now and I still rely on her for her unwavering support, encouragement and occasional kick in the ass. I’m pretty damned lucky…

Thanks for reading… Hope you’ve had a good week!

Rod

P.S.
In case you remember/as promised last week:

Hey, Teacher!...

If my extended family has a predominant profession - it’d undoubtedly be teaching. Beginning with both of my parents, I would wager that there are more doctors, deans, principals and instructors in my family than otherwise. So I do have a bit of an insiders window to the plight of teachers. They are often overworked, short staffed, underfunded and definitely underpaid. In fact, there was just a 100 million dollar cut to the public school budget here this fiscal year alone…

But it kinda pains me a little to say to say how disillusioned I am quickly becoming with the educational system now that my children are part of it.

My daughter, who is in grade 1, comes home with a standing order of 15 minutes required/supervised/logged daily reading, a weekly vocabulary project with it’s pertaining daily assignment, and any additional homework that may be assigned for that particular day. Did I mention she is in grade 1?! - and already averaging about 45 minutes of homework, requiring parental supervision, a day?

Once upon a time, especially before dual incomes were all but required to survive in society, this might have been far less of a concern. But I still can’t imagine EVER going home and saying: “Mom. Dad. It’s time to go over my Word Wall Words!” I’ve heard of and read articles talking about parental involvement being a key to success but I’m curious when that eclipsed instilling the sense of self-reliance, independence and personal accountability. And when a teacher says - “take this home to do with your parents” - I do wonder how much that blurs the lines of responsibility and then inevitably becomes the ‘cub scout wooden racecar’ approach to teaching/learning (where ultimately the parents just take over and do the work for the kids.)

I want so badly to be in the teacher’s corner here - but am really having trouble wrapping my head around this one. I’m doing my best to teach my kids all kinds of things already (while feeding, clothing, and sheltering them…) I kinda figured that I was going to be able to leave the schoolwork to the teachers.

Anyways… That’s two weeks in a row I’ve kinda gone off on a bit of a tangent. I’ll do my best to get back to fart and booby jokes for next week. Thanks for reading, though!

-

With my parents in town over the weekend and needing to take 3 trips a day to the kids’ school - I haven’t gotten too much done on the workfront. We’ve just solved the childcare issue now, though, and I am looking down the scope at being to get nearly full days in again! I am pumped! Hopefully I can start getting into a pretty good/productive routine fairly soon… I just feel like I have so much cool stuff I NEED to get outta my head!!!! And can’t wait to hit the ground running.

Thanks again. Hope you’ve had a good week!

Rod

Holier than who?!

Religion has been on my mind again lately… This has been an area of struggle for me for some time now but this latest bout has been brought on partly due to enrolling the kids into a public school (in most of western Canada there are public and separate/Catholic school systems.) It has me wondering if I am denying my kids of a spiritual awareness of the so-called ‘bigger picture’ and/or moral bedrock.

I’m not completely sure what degree of my understanding of ‘right and wrong’ was fostered through religion and/or Catholic schooling. And if some of my experiences in Tennessee were any barometer for what a religious upbringing is capable of doing to a person; then I’m glad I missed the batshit crazy bus to rapture town.

In fact, the last discussion I’ve had with my children in regards to religion was explaining why there was a marked grave conspicuously just outside of the cemetery grounds in a little farm town in rural Saskatchewan (my Grandparents and 2 of my Uncles are buried there.) And why people would isolate, exclude and punish someone like that - in the name of religion. (They even went so far as to bury her North/South instead of the standard East/West… Sheesh!)

I don’t want to focus on the negative, though there is plenty to be found. On one hand, the clichéd “Stand for something or fall for anything” comes to mind - and I do worry that my waffling on this subject will be what’s eventually passed down.

In the meantime, I do try to set a good example, keep an open dialogue and encourage them to weed through the agendas and BS and discover their own beliefs. And if they do go down that road, I just hope they’ll find a path free of Kool-Aid and rattlesnakes!

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On the work front: I finished the bike parts in time to enjoy the long weekend and am trying to get a couple personal projects worked on now. The Chief skull may not be reinventing the wheel - but it gave me a chance to try a different approach. I started with pencil, inked in the darkest parts, airbrushed in the colors and shading, then scraped and erased my highlights. It actually is going pretty smoothly so far and I’m pretty pleased with the process and looking forward to applying it to my next project.

I’ve also been taking stock of all the paintings and such that I have on hand. It seems to be a bit of a shame that they are still all wrapped up and packed aside from my summer shows. So I am talking to some people to see if they’d be interested in displaying them for me. It’s pretty humbling asking people if they would be interested in showing my work… But I’d rather people were seeing them than let them continue to collect dust where they are now.

Thank you for reading!!! Hope you’ve had a good week.

Rod

I've been rubbed wrong.

Despite our efforts to be completely prepared for Riley’s first day of school, we neglected to purchase a ‘peanut free’ main course for her lunch. (in case you didn’t know it already/apparently peanuts are devil fodder and the war against them is being waged in our school systems.) Of course I didn’t realize this until I went to make her lunch this morning… 

Unlike pretty well every other morning or occasion, however, we had actually gotten up early enough to cater to the inevitable unplanned hiccups. I had plenty of time to run to the grocery store and pick her up a cleverly marketed, totally convenient in a pinch, and insanely overpriced package of ’Lunchables’.

The clerk at the store fell squarely into whatever the politically correct verbiage for 'dumb as post’ would be. She was slow, disconnected and totally indifferent to the fact that everyone in the Express Lane might actually be in a bit of a hurry. The only thing missing from the scenario was a wad of gum to serve as her cud.

I was sandwiched in the line between two other impatient parents presumably also picking up last minute items for their children. And the somewhat frazzled lady immediately behind me in line was letting out audible sighs of disgust with the clerks every inefficient move. She was also moving closer and closer to me as if that would somehow grease the wheels of our slow procession. After what seemed an eternity , though in reality probably only really a minute or so, the lady was close enough that if I moved in any way I would bump her (and vice versa.) My skin began to crawl because, as you know, it’s not often Claudia Schiffer or Elle Macpherson that invades your space… and this was the case here as well. My space had officially been invaded by a grumpy, frumpy, impatient and less clean than I would have preferred woman.

I had tried moving as far as I could away from her but refused to crowd the dude in front of me in the same manner. Flashing a few dirty looks had little effect on this wildebeest and only seemed to encourage the encroachment. It had just begun to cross my mind that I need to start bringing a portable pylon kit for just this sort of occasion when I felt it… (No - not that - that’s disgusting!) She was close enough that I could actually feel the warm exhalation of one of her heavy, exaggerated sighs up and down the back of my neck. It sent chills down my spine and forced me to turn and face the breath monster now standing a mere few inches from my face. I swallowed back my rising stomach and said; ‘excuse me?!’ and did the quick up and down eye movement thing that lets a person know that you are referring to them in their entirety as the problem.

She responded with a “hmmph” and shimmied herself back an obligatory three or four inches.

The next few minutes were spent awkwardly hoping the clerk would actually figure out how to scan a barcode in fewer than 26 attempts - and feeling the newly refocused, seething hatred of the heavy breathing bovine behind me. Ultimately, receiving the receipt from our transaction was like being awarded a get-out-of-jail-free card.

So… To get back on track here… It’s Riley’s first day of school today and she was very excited.

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Work has been dismal for me this week. Despite several running starts, I think this job may well be the least productive I have been in recent memory. I don’t know why - but it is taking FOREVER and the fact that my profit margin became non-existent several days ago is not helping with the lack of motivation. Ugh. I need to have it done for tomorrow, though, and better get to work.

Thanks for reading! Have a great long weekend!

Rod

I had to pull out my skull this week.

Distance/endurance running came naturally to me as a kid and into high school. I even competed with some success before discovering cigarettes, girls, cars and beer… But I can still remember the ‘runners high’ you can get from a good paced run. Feeling the blood pumping through your limbs and your heart pumping so fast you can almost hear it - it was invigorating!

When the race day came, however, it was a different animal altogether. The pace was inevitably quicker than you had anticipated and it was hard to stick to any sort of game plan you may have had in your mind. For the first little while, the focus was keeping up with the pack and/or not letting yourself fall too far behind. But about half way through, a shift begins and your focus becomes the finish line. You stop concerning yourself as much with the people around you and start thinking about what you need to do to get to where you need to be. With any luck, you manage to make it across the finish line in respectable form, in a decent position and without vomiting and/or passing out. And more often than not, you have skipped clearly passed ‘runners high’ and landed firmly on ‘my lungs are on fire and it is entirely possible my bowels are about to release’.

That is the best comparison I can come up with now that both of our kids will be starting school this fall… Please know that I love my children dearly but the last 6 years have had their fair share of ups and downs. It hasn’t been easy balancing my ambitions with an attempt at the responsibilities of good parenting - and I just hope my successes outnumber my failures.

But I am only a week away from a pretty significant finish line and/or transition now; and I just hope I can cross it with some semblance of dignity. I am sooo looking forward to my bittersweet 'parenting high' and just hope I can enjoy my victory dance on the front lawn of the school without getting arrested.

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On the work front: it has been a difficult week. I am balancing the kids last few weeks of summer with a bike job where the masking tape has over-adhered to the parts. It has been an exhausting combination of rambunctious behavior, Chef-Boyardee and bent back fingernails from trying to remove the tape in tiny little pieces.

I was going to use my free time to color my ’Mad Hatter’ pin-up but decided to put it on hold and do a test-piece first. I will be using the same process on this Chief skull as I will on the pin-up and I figure it will give me a better idea of how the paint will act over the pencil lines.

Thanks for reading! I hope you’ve had a good week.

Rod

　

　

Someday I’ll own a dog that doesn’t burp in my face when I hug it.

There is an international theatre festival going on in town this week called ‘The Fringe’ that runs complete with a mini-fair and street performers from all over the world. We took the kids and dropped nearly two hundred dollars in a matter of a few hours - but did enjoy the time we had. The majority of the plays were extremely ‘adult’ in nature and we weren’t able to bring the kids in with us (ex. One was called: ‘Pretending Things Are A Cock’.) So, needless to say,  it was mostly the outdoor 'G' rated performances and Ferris wheels for us.

I suppose that, if I was to truly commit to writing an informed and impartial weekly blog, I should have gone into the tent were the dude was exposing his genitalia in the name of “Foreskin Awareness”… I’m sure the war on circumcision needs all the little soldiers it can get and it may even be a worthwhile battle - but I’m not sure it’s a fight I want to involve myself in. It’s still my blog, however, and in this case especially; it will remain uninformed, biased, and within the appropriate confines of my fruit of the looms.

One guy that caught my eye and immediately made me think of a 90 minute formula comedy for a Hollywood movie was the dreadlocked and walking hemp store commercial that was the Didgeridoo player. He had a three piece band and was blasting away his gastric sounding noises to the up-tempo beat his drummer and base player were providing. I could just imagine, remembering how uncomfortable it was when Cherie introduced her ‘Artist’ boyfriend to her parents, what it must be like for him when he meets his father in-law for the first time. I still face my share of snap judgment and rampant condescension from my in-laws to this day but even I had to really had to feel for this guy. As artists, we can walk a lonely and hard road when it comes to acceptance in this world… But I couldn’t help but think that he must be walking the equivalent of a mountain goat path. Oh well, I tried to remember the ‘Happy Crackhead’ lesson from a few weeks ago, put my pretentious, two-cent diagnosis of his life on a shelf, and moved to watch on to the next performer.

All in all, it was a nice night out with the family. And there is just something about being out at a fair on a summer night with a beautiful woman that warms the soul. Don’t get me wrong, the kids kinda leech it back outta you… but my soul was warmed for a little while all the same.

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The work front has been a little slow and unproductive. I flamed out the front of a truck on Monday and haven’t accomplished much since. We put the kids in a day camp again this week and the silence around the house/studio has been HEAVENLY. I have found myself just absolutely reveling in it for the last three days. Time to get my ass in gear, though…

My Mad Hatter project has taken up the majority of my nights. It has been A LOT of fun and I think I’ve got her ready for color now.

Another week… Hope yours was a good one! Thanks for reading,

Rod

P.S.
In case you thought I was making it up (they even have t-shirts available if you are wanting to put your little soldier in the fight): www.can-fap.net


 　

　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Cool green bottles and rodent-like behavior.

When I was 11, I won a trip to summer camp for a week. I was just old enough to be grouped with the oldest boys (the 12 and 13 year olds) and did my best to try and ease into what was widely considered to be the ‘cool’ cabin. A year or two isn’t typically even an afterthought in our daily interactions these days but, to an eleven year old, someone who has thirteen years under their belt has undoubtedly already achieved vast wisdom, armpit hair, muscles and earned the coveted title of ‘teen‘. I did fit in well enough and, for the most part, even enjoyed my occasionally awkward time away from home. It was a week full of tipping canoes, listening to AC DC, bumming cigarettes from counselors, and desperately trying to impress girls. (Sorry Mom! It definitely wasn’t a week of fireside kumbaya’s and smores!)

It was just common knowledge by the time Friday rolled around that it was the one night you could get into trouble without worrying about your parents getting called in to get you. After all, they were coming to pick you up the next morning anyways. Me and another boy (the second youngest in the cabin) just assumed we would be included in the planned trek to the far side of camp (a.k.a. where the girls were.) But the two oldest boys had their own agenda - which didn’t include us. I remember it vividly and can still quote him directly to this day: “You're not coming. You guys will just rat us out.”

I was stunned. I mean, I had heard the term before and was definitely aware of its indelible, blacklisting effect but didn’t expect it to be slung so hastily in my direction. I had no intentions of ratting anyone out - I just wanted to go bother 12 year old girls at midnight too! But we were excluded all the same and I was confused and shocked. I never did find out exactly what those two other boys ended up doing that night though I would bet it was pretty 'G rated'. We did ultimately sneak out too but met up with the counselors and sat around a campfire and smoked cigarettes for a few hours…  (which was fine by us because one of them was HOT!)

Anyways… That was what immediately popped into my head last Saturday night when I ratted out some guy. We had swung by a liquor store to get me some Grolsch beer (Grolsch beer is awesome, by the way, and the funky bottle tops are super cool) and I walked in behind a guy who had to have been marinating in something bourbon-esque. It was such a cloud that it stopped being funny and was just plain unpleasant to be enveloped in. Then, after purchasing my imported bottles of Dutch awesomeness, I saw him in the parking lot trying to get his truck started. It had to have been a standard transmission as, unbeknownst to the drunk dude, it was rolling backwards before he got it into gear. And after he then proceeded to make three unsuccessful attempts at finding the exit to the parking lot - I decided it was time to call the cops.

So, I guess those boys were right all along and I do deserve a ‘Scarlet R’ after all. Oddly enough I don’t regret calling 911 (though they did require A PILE of personal info for some reason?!) and, given the same circumstance, would be a rat again. Funny how perspectives can change when you have a little more wisdom, muscles, armpit hair, and have triumphed/endured through the period known as ‘teen’.

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On the work front, it has been a little slow since completing the Bel Air dragster last weekend. The customer was thrilled and that’s always nice (and so is getting a paycheck reminiscent of the days when business was booming a few years ago!) I’ve also made some headway on my personal projects and will be shipping one out in the next day or two here.

My Mad Hatter panel is progressing slowly - but that’s okay. I want to take it slow and try a more ’Michael Calandra’ approach to this one. (If you haven’t heard of him, I definitely recommend looking him up.) I’m working on a way to include the stoner caterpillar and Cheshire cat… Fun and challenging.

Thanks for listening!!! Hope you’ve had a good week.

Rod

Thank you, Mr. Crackhead

Along the way across town to pick up the kids from their week long summer day camp, I hit my share of red lights. It was a long, hot and exhausting end to my day - and I was ready to be home. At one light in particular, I found myself watching a shirtless man in headphones start rythmically tapping his feet. Before long he had crescendoed into a full-on, uncoordinated yet blissful routine of swaying arms and gyrations.

Being a little road-grumpy anyways, I was quick to hurl judgement… It was pretty plain to see that it was either some sort of illness, intoxicant, or both fueling his own personal dance party. He was completely oblivious to the world around him - and pretty damn happy about it in his child-like, euphoric trance.

The light was long enough for me to get over the typical and immediate condemnations (crackhead, criminal, bum etc.) and drift into a little bit of jealousy. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’ll take a pass on the crack pipe… But it sure has me wondering how I could sit there in my traffic induced misery and pass judgment on someone who, for whatever actual reason, was a hell of a lot happier than I was at that moment.

So, thanks for the perspective, Mr. Crackhead… I think I’m gonna go look for my headphones and find myself a street corner to go dancing on.

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On the work front: it has been a loooong week. I’ve been painting a Bel Air dragster body at a local shop and it has taken the better part of a week now - and also taken a toll on my feet and back. It’s nice to have such a big project to work on, though, but it has made me into a bit of a zombie after work. I’ve managed some time on a personal project for a good friend of mine (a griffon/lion theme) - as well as draw out a concept for a ‘Mad Hatter’ pin-up that I’m developing (below.) I’m looking forward to working on both but they’ll probably have to wait until the weekend before they see any paint.

Thanks for lookin! Have a great weekend,

Rod

and the tune I've been looping all week...

Stinky puppies and getting scammed.

Apparently you need a letter saying your car is free of recalls before you can import a vehicle into Canada. If your car is of GM manufacture, you are routed through one place (Vintage Vehicle Services) - to the tune of $270. I called this place to make sure all of my documentation was in order and was promptly charged the exorbitant fee.

Soon afterwards I was informed that the motor vehicle registry already had my particular vehicle in it’s system as recall free. A fact that would have easily/readily been known by the privatized vendor providing the so-called ‘service’.

There was no real way of avoiding this on the way into it - as I simply followed the procedure formally laid out for me. It was a glitch in the system that allowed for this douche bag to take advantage of people who couldn’t have known any better. And the extra large, boldly typed ’No Refunds’ on his application only serves to prove that this parasite is willingly taking advantage of people who would inevitably later find out the truth.

So yes… I am admittedly naïve and overly upset - but I absolutely HATE that there are people like this out there. $270 may not even get me on the radar of the Madoff list or anything like that - but it is the same type of behavior. Parasitic people who would rather steal and manipulate you out of your money rather than make their own. I’ve never been too much in favor for meathead behavior - but will admit I would love to hear this guy accidentally ran into my/a fist six or seven or twenty-two times. I guess I will just have to keep up my faith in Karma in the meantime…

Another aspect of the ordeal was the inspection process. It’s a whole other rant that I will spare you from. I’ll quit by saying it was AWESOME to be at the mercy of an industry that just recently tested 77% corrupt/dishonest - again.

Anyways… Not much new this week on the Art front as I am still wallowing in my self-pity parade following my lackluster shows.  I am slowly gearing back up with a new focus. It’s just coming a little slower this time as my ego took a pretty thorough ass-kicking… Cherie won’t put up with too much more pouting, though, and I have a feeling she is about to pull out the motivational 2 x 4.

On the home front; I don’t think I am ever going to give the new puppy any more cheese. She’s a ball of un-coordinated energy and clumsy curiosity - and quickly becoming a large part of our dysfunctional chaotic lives… But my eyes are all but watering as I type this and her continuous and absolutely horrid little SBD blasts are about to force me into emptying a can of Fabreeze up her ass.

Thanks for listenin’!!!!!!! I gotta go get outta the cloud.

Rod